5 Proposals
by The Noble French Fry
Summary: Or '5 Ways Lee Adama and Kara Thrace Get Engaged.' 5 individual ficlets about ways that Lee and Kara might pop the question. Summaries of each in 1 word: Traditional, Cockpits, Permanent, Morning, and A Toast. LeeKara


**Title:** 5 Proposals (or "5 Ways Lee Adama and Kara Thrace Get Engaged")  
**Fandom:** new BSG  
**Summary:** Five individual ficlets about the ways that Lee and Kara might pop the question.  
**Rating:** high PG  
**Pairings/Characters: **Lee/Kara  
**Length:** collectively 2,800 words; **1**: 640 words;** 2**: 520 words; **3**: 400 words; **4**: 500 words;** 5**: 720 words  
**Genres:** romance, obviously... some ficlets slightly AU  
**A/N: **Well, honestly this was inspired by reading a lot of fic and my brain protesting very loudly in my head about Lee and Kara getting engaged could not be conventional. As the last line of the last ficlet says, "Since when were they ever conventional anyway?" ;) So I sat down and cranked out 5 unconventional proposals (of which my favorite, let me note off-hand, is #2). But, amazingly, it's my very first venture into BSG fic, even though I've been around the fandom off and on since season 2. So hoo-rah for that. And hugest thanks to my beta, LJ user dramaturgca!

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**5 Proposals**

(or 5 Ways Lee Adama and Kara Thrace Get Engaged)

**1. Traditional – Yeah, Right**

Well, this was somewhat different. It was the nicest restaurant on Cloud Nine – probably one of if not the nicest in the fleet – and a definite change of scenery. She was there, across the table, looking through a menu, and that was normal, not so different. But she was dressed up, very dressed up, and _damn_, it was a sight. He was wowed beyond his wildest dreams that seeing her in a dress actually _wasn't_ a once-in-a-lifetime thing. It blew his mind that this woman across the table was his Kara, the great Starbuck.

As she continued to examine the menu, he watched her over the top of it. Under the corner of the table, he discreetly fingered a hard square object in his pocket, feeling over its edges.

She'd actually thought it was funny when he suggested coming here. She'd smirked and actually _laughed_ quietly under her breath where she probably thought he couldn't hear. Luckily, though, she'd agreed to come. He was glad they were here… It seemed almost perfect.

She finally glanced up from her menu then, catching his eyes. She made a face at him, laughed lightly, and then returned to examining the list of dishes – she seemed extremely indecisive about food tonight. He hoped that mood was limited to food. Finally, she folded the menu closed and laid it on the table. Looking across the table at him, light danced in her eyes, both from the flickering candles and the power of her smile. "So," she said, "you never did tell me." She gestured to their surroundings. "What's the special occasion?"

Well, that hadn't taken long. It was now or never. Suddenly Lee's throat was tight. But he had resolve.

His fingers plucked the object deftly out of his pocket. He slid out of his chair, as he'd planned, and down onto his knee by the side of the table, lifting the box itself and then the box's lid. Inside, a ring sparkled in the candlelight. He couldn't help but smile up at her.

As soon as she saw him go down, Kara's eyes widened slightly and her mouth opened. But it wasn't to gasp or some equally appropriate verbal reaction.

Her mouth opened to admit a peel of _laughter_. And not the giggling sort – it was a loud _guffaw_.

Lee's smile rapidly faded as his brow furrowed in confusion. Kara kept right on laughing, even harder after she saw his change in expression. She laughed heartily for a long while as Lee knelt, still perplexed.

Finally, it slowed enough to allow her to talk. "You brought me here to _propose_?" she said. It sounded like an insult to his brain capacity. "So _traditional_. Gods, Lee, you are too funny." She kept laughing.

His pride was fatally wounded. He should have _known_ something like this would happen. He'd been foolish. "What kind of an answer is that?" he demanded.

She laughed harder for a minute. "You didn't even ask me the question yet."

"Well," he huffed, starting to get back up and move to his chair, "I'm inclined not to ask it now. I've been kinda discouraged."

She laughed _again_. He wasn't sure she was _ever_ going to stop laughing at this, which only made him feel worse. "Well," she said when her laughter finally died out to an even brighter sparkle in her eyes than before, "if you never ask the question, how do you expect to get the answer?"

He wanted to snap something about having already heard her answer, but he rolled his eyes. "Fine. Kara Thrace, will you marry me?"

Her lips pulled into a lopsided smile. "Yes."

He was dumbfounded again. "Why didn't you tell me that _before_?"

She laughed yet again. "I couldn't help it. I can't believe you tried to be so traditional about it. Traditional! – yeah, right."

* * *

**2. Cockpits (Because They're Pilots at Heart)**

There were Cylon Raiders _everywhere_. Frakking toasters were _absolutely everywhere_ – it was like swimming through a _sea_ of them.

They were drastically out-numbered, and they all knew it. It was too bad they couldn't run, because that would have been the smartest option. Then again, they probably wouldn't have run anyway, even then. Foolish, maybe, but they would have done it anyway.

Explosions were splitting the stillness of the vacuum everywhere; luckily more Raiders than Vipers were exploding and disintegrating at the moment, but that could change in less than a heartbeat. DRADIS was lit up like a party, and the wireless lines were hot with talk.

It was over and through this mess of talks and shouts and barks and other noises that Lee Adama heard Kara Thrace's hearty laugh. Behind his Viper, there were two quick explosions, first one on port, then on starboard. They were so close his Viper actually _rocked_ one way, then the other. His mind registered the laugh in exactly the same second as the ship's movement.

When he regained full control of his Viper and got it steady, another Viper dropped in to fly just off his starboard wing. The two wings almost touched, but not quite.

Kara grinned at him across the empty space. He knew what she was going to say before her voice buzzed over wireless. "You owe me, Apollo."

He started to grin back, but his attention was split between her and DRADIS, and DRADIS quickly reclaimed his full attention. Jerking hard left instinctively, he peeled off her side and looped back around, halfway upside down, to shoot down a Raider that was coming at her from aft, then picked off another that was swooping in at her fast from the right. He twisted, putting himself completely upside down relative to her. Their Vipers sat like mirror reflections, up and down.

He looked straight up – or down, relative to her – at her and flashed a grin. "Even."

Even though her eyes narrowed, she returned the grin. "I hate that word."

"I know." His grin only widened.

They didn't get to enjoy their moment any longer than that. An onslaught – if you could really call it that when it was neverending and the Raiders were _everywhere_ – forced them to split up to take down targets. They came together moments later, though, dancing around each other as they picked off Raiders. No matter how many they shot down, more were always there.

Kara's voice, somewhat strained by effort and focus, came over the wireless at Lee again. "You know, if we make it out of this alive, I might just have to marry you, Apollo."

The words were spoken only halfway in jest, an attempt at morale boosting. A quip to keep the spirits up, holding on strong.

His throat felt tight, but he smiled wanly. "_When_ we make it out, I'll hold you to that, Starbuck," he threw back. It was another attempt at morale boosting, an attempt at optimism in a rather pessimistic situation.

But then again, the promise was hope. It was more incentive to make it out alive.

* * *

**3. Permanent (On Again)**

She lay on her stomach beside him, head turned away as he traced slow patterns on her back. His fingertips glided over her smooth skin, now and then stirring up barely noticeable goosebumps. Slowly, he slipped his head closer, pressing his lips to the curve of her shoulder. She didn't move.

Part of him still couldn't believe he was here with her. Again. Part of him knew this was inevitable. It would always happen.

He took a deep breath. It caught and shook in his chest. "Kara?" he asked.

"Hmm?" she mumbled. The sound stirred her back, but otherwise she remained still, still not facing him.

"This is going to stick, this time, right?" he asked. He knew it probably wasn't a good idea to ask the question anyway, that it was likely to scare her off again rather than elicit a much-desired confession or a promise. He knew, but he couldn't help it. He had to know.

She didn't answer and remained perfectly still. He couldn't even feel her breathing.

He stumbled over more words that probably should have been left unsaid. "We just… We've been on-again, off-again so many times, for so long… I just…" He trailed off as his throat tightened.

Finally, she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were full of emotion, but of what emotion, he didn't know. Still, she was silent for a long minute. Finally, she spoke. Her voice was quiet, but it would have knocked Lee on his back had he not already been there. For once, there was uncertainty in her eyes, like she knew she was about to propose a plan that would be immediately shot down. "I can think of a way to make sure it sticks."

That was an unexpected response. He couldn't help but smile. "How?"

Her eyes were still unsure and searched his face as she said, "Vows." She swallowed almost imperceptibly, trying to hide it. "Like marriage vows."

She never ceased to surprise him. "Wow," he said quietly, barely even a whisper. "_That_ could definitely work." He thought over that. It had been far more than he had ever expected out of a conversation like this.

"So?" she asked. "On again?"

He smiled. "More than on again." Picking up her hand, he interlaced their fingers and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "_Permanent_." He liked the sound of the word.

* * *

**4. In The Morning**

Suddenly, an amusing though struck him, and Lee pulled back. Kara stayed close to him, lips on his cheek, below his ear, just under the curve of his jaw. His lips were to her hair now, just above and behind her ear.

"I have a question to ask you," he whispered against her blond locks.

She was back to the skin below his ear again. "What's that?" she breathed against his skin.

He smiled faintly into her hair as her breath tickled against him. "You're not gonna run off and get married in the morning this time, are you?"

She laughed. There was almost no sound – he could only tell she was laughing by the slight shake of her body and the irregular rhythm of her hot breath against the side of his face. "Maybe," she said, breathed, whispered. Her lips curved into an amused smirk. He could feel them. "I just might."

He really drew back this time, abruptly putting actual space between them so that he could see her face. His expression was taut, serious, pained, his blue eyes staring at her face. _Her_ expression was playful, the faintest of smiles quirking her lips ever so slightly in one corner, but her eyes told him plainly that even though she was playful, her words had not been a ruse.

He stared at her for a moment, an unstoppable lump growing in his throat. "Kara…"

She rolled her eyes at his reaction, the corner of her mouth quirking up a little bit more. "I meant to _you_, numbskull," she said. "Gods, Lee, you're dense."

He was a bit relieved (and simultaneously _shocked_) to hear her response, but the last part angered him too, and that quickly overrode all other emotions. "Well, forgive me," he muttered, "but don't you think that hurts just a little bit?"

The playfulness quickly faded from Kara's face, and, scowling, her expression hardened. "You're not gonna let me live that one down, are you?" she demanded angrily.

"Well, gods, Kara, think about it—" Lee began. He stopped himself as sense finally kicked back into his brain. "No," he said finally. "It's alright. It's ancient history now." That wasn't exactly the truth – it wasn't alright; it was still painful to think about, probably for her too, though she didn't really admit it – but it was better than fighting. And time without bursting the wounds open again would no doubt help the healing process. Swallowing, he collected the rest of his senses for a moment before adding, "Let's not get side-tracked from what the real conversation was here."

As the anger quickly melted from Lee's face, his words drained it from Kara's. Slowly, ever so slowly, he opened his arms towards her, and they closed the distance between them.

"So," he whispered once more against her ear, "do I still get to marry you in the morning?"

She grinned against the side of his face again. "That depends on how good you are…"

* * *

**5. A Toast**

They were both pretty drunk. Not as drunk and loose as some of the bar's other patrons, but not as sober and uptight as some either. Liquor swam in both of their gazes, piercing blue and warm brown alike. But neither was too drunk to remember the reason they were here, either. (Maybe they were both pretending to be a little, just a little, further gone than they really were. It was easy to blame real enthusiasm on the liquor.)

It had started as a toast to, of all the things, a thing so generally un-toast-able as the finalizations of divorces. Ha. Toasting divorces. Weren't divorces supposed to be painful things, not celebrated? Didn't people usually toast weddings?

"A toast to being single again!"

"To divorce lawyers."

"Gods know lawyers aren't good for much else."

"Here, here." A glass was thrust proudly into the air. "To being free of _that_ frakking mess!" They both laughed and drank heartily to that one.

They weren't _just_ toasting divorces. Neither said so, but they both knew it. Anyone with eyes and half a brain could see it. They were celebrating. Not divorces, of course; not per se. They were celebrating the collapse of walls, the erasing of boundaries too long kept erect between them. Now, they were dancing – _literally_ at moments, when the music was right – on the rubble of tumbled walls, crooning proudly over the fallen barriers.

"Ha. I always frak up my happiness anyway."

"And mine."

More laughter, though this had a slightly more serious edge to it. "It doesn't get much more frakked up than me."

"I've gotta be pretty frakked up to be with you."

Somehow, a toast to divorce suddenly became a wedding toast. Mocking, perhaps, but a real wedding toast nonetheless. From toasting divorces to toasting weddings in the same breath.

"To the mismatched bride and groom! The frakked up ones who marry the wrong people."

"Here, here!"

They both swallowed down another hard shot before, under his breath, he chuckled, "Bride and groom." Then louder, laughing still, "Bride and groom!" The laugh was genuinely happy this time – not ironic.

Suddenly the words weren't a mocked wedding toast. They'd become a proposal for the very same thing. An accepted proposal. They'd known, all along, that it would come to this; they did. Of course they did. This wasn't really just a celebration of divorce; it was a wedding celebration too.

"To the bride and groom!"

"'bout time!" someone else yelled. A round of agreements sounded.

They both laughed again, excitement tainting the ringing sound this time. "I say we celebrate now and get the Old Man and the President to make it official later!" she proposed proudly.

That also met with a giant round of approval, probably due to the celebratory round that they bought for every single wedding "guest" in the place. That sparked a lot of toasts of their own, many of which were just downright absurd.

Next came the drinking with intertwined arms. That was fun, until the bride attempted to sabotage the groom's hopes of swallowing it all easily. He still managed, somehow, amidst a hail of laughter. When the next drink came – drinking from one another's glasses in place of a non-existent cake – he was ready for his revenge. He twisted the glass away from her lips at the last second, spilling it down her chin and onto her shirt. He didn't stay dry for long, either. She thrust the drink out of the cup at him, and it drenched his throat before running down onto his shirt too.

That evoked laughter from everyone, but most heartily from the two of them. The laughter spilled over into the "first dance." Some waltz that was. Some song too. Neither one of them would even remember the song – not tomorrow morning, not ever.

It took a long time to run through every single wedding tradition they could possibly think of, and it was late by the time they were done. Too late to actually go and do the actual official part of the wedding.

That was fine. It could wait until the morning.

What a way to start a marriage. With abundant alcohol and a reversed celebration and a mocked ceremony.

But since when were they ever conventional anyway?

_finis_

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**Now, do the kind thing and review! Your poor author here is sitting in a house that's being pounded by Tropical Storm Fay. It would make me so very happy to have some nice reviews to read. ;)**

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